


Down the Highway Blues

by Attorney C (arh581958)



Series: #MarveyWeek [17]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Day6 - Road Trip, Established Relationship, Fight or Flight, Happy Ending, I never thought that I'll use this tag but, M/M, Mike's out of prison, Post-Season 5, Running Away, Self-Reflection, marvey, too much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Attorney%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fight or flight. Others will do anything to fight for love. Mike's done it, been through it, and failed. Sometimes, he just needs to get away--from his criminal record, his past, and his life. That's when he decides to hightail it out of the apartment at god-knows what in the morning, but memories of Harvey follow him along the road. Will he come back? Or is he gone for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Highway Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ["Marvey Appreciation Week"](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/post/144878259395/fuckyeahmarvey-marvey-appreciation-week-july), Day 6 - _Road Trip_.
> 
> The culmination of the Atonement series. Mike's out and about but he's not one so used to having good things happen.
> 
> Thank you to the awesome, Sam, for beta reading this!

Mike wakes up bright and early, a habit ingrained in him from the thirteen months, twelve days, and eleven hours behind the well-guarded correctional facility of New York State. Everyday inside had been a struggle to save his ass, his sanity, and himself from getting mind-raped by the conditions and the lewd ass comments about the  _ skinny little white boy _ . 

Unlike the stale, sweat-soaked air of his cell, this room smells like fresh laundry detergent and  _ Harvey _ —the same man whose face is squished against the pillow beside his head. Harvey looks the same as he had on Mike’s last night of freedom. Now, he gets to see the very same face on his first night outside. It’s nice.  

He traces a finger over Harvey’s features, and just drinks it all in—the new creases and the old ones, the semi-permanent thinking-lines on Harvey’s forehead, the bare traces of the crow’s feet and laughter lines. Nostalgia hits him like a wave, of how he used to do this in secret after they fucked in the office, how much he wanted to stay even if Harvey never asked him to. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Harvey’s temple,  _ but I can’t bring you down like this _ . 

Mike gets out of bed, finds his old clothes in the same drawers, and pushes away the man he loves all over again. He can’t, he just can’t, bring Harvey and the firm down. It’s him. It’s all because of him, his idealism and his selfishness, because he didn’t want to be without Harvey when he should have stayed away. He knew better now. 

He does what he does best. 

Mike runs away for the second time in his life. 

***

The first day passes in blur. Mike rents a car and drives west with no real destination in mind. He knows that he needs to get as far away from New York as possible. His resolve will dissolve if he so much as stays another day. He has a small bag with clothes, his wallet, and IDs. All those will have to be enough for him to start a new life. It’s easy enough to drift away while going browsing through the Harry Potter books in his head. 

Twelve hours later, he’s in Ohio. He eats a whole day’s meal in one sitting—greasy burgers, crispy fries, and a soggy salad, and then checks into a low-down motel. Nothing fancy, just a roof over his head and a squeaky bed that’s probably scene more unprotected sex than a porn set. It’s still a luxury compared to upper bunk in country. 

When he can’t sleep, he shrugs on a ratty old pair of jeans and heads to the nightclub he saw a few miles back. Loud music blares brokenly on the speakers and the base makes the ground vibrate under his feet. He orders two-fingers of whiskey because scotch reminds him of Harvey, and the only time they went to a bar like this together. 

***

_ “So, by the mountain to Muhammad, you meant—” _

_ “—DNA coming to Mr. Wolf.”  _

_ Mr. Wolf came dressed to kill, and apparently should be called ‘Ms. Wolf’ instead. Her long dark hair was spun in a mountain of elegant curls on her head, showing off her tan shoulder and her sparkly black dress. She plucked DNA swabs from her bag and took the needed samples  _ elegantly _ like she was just retouching her lipstick.  _

_ “Not going to Luderman this time?” She asked, coy and familiar. Mike’s skin crawled underneath his light grey leather jacket. His fists curling inside the pockets. Her eyes moved from Harvey to Mike, accessing.  _

_ “They told me to put my top investigator on it, Vanessa,” Harvey replied, while a finger toyed with the rim of his glass. Flirting came naturally to him. He took a small sip without ever breaking eye contact. Mike wanted to disappear then, and there were feelings that shouldn’t be churning in his gut.  _

_ “What? You’re not going to ask me out like you always do when you put me on one of your cases?” Vanessa now seemed far more interested in Mike. “And who’s this?” _

_ “Mike Ross, my associate.” Harvey physically put himself between them now. If Mike was letting his fantasies go wild, he would think that Harvey’s stance was protective—of him, and not the other way around. “He’s no one. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”  _

_ “Ahh, there is it.” Vanessa smiled. “No, it’s fine. I can’t bring DNA evidence with alcohol in my system. You’ll get the results back on Monday.”  _

_ They watched her leave, then finally Mike can release the breath he’d been holding. “So that’s Mr. Wolf, huh?” He couldn’t help the bitter jealously bleeding into his tone but he hoped that Harvey would shrug it off as an alcohol-induced slur.  _

_ Harvey hummed in acknowledgement. “Looks like my weekend just freed up.”  _

_ “Did you just—” Mike blinked in shock. “Are you trying to get me to go home with you?”  _

_ “I don’t know.” Harvey shuffled on his elbows against the bar, showing off his forearms. “See any other long-legged blondes whose ass can squeeze like a motherfucking pro?”  _

_ Mike licked his lips. He ducked in, angling for a kiss but stopped at the last second, breathing hotly against Harvey’s lips. “I guess you’ll have to find out.” He grabbed Harvey’s glass and downed the rest of the scotch with a cocky grin.  _

_ He would never have pegged Harvey Specter as a man who can get down and dirty in the shadows of a questionable alley. The wall-burns on his palms, elbows, and knees, scraped painfully under his suits for the rest of the week.   _

***

This motel makes his skin crawl, but it doesn’t stop him from face-planting head-first into the mattress as soon as the door closes. All he can think about is how he would rather have endured those burns for a month instead of this smelly old bed. 

Mike leaves the motel before dawn the next morning, and arrives in Illinois in time for lunch. Rachel, Donna, and Harvey have been calling him non-stop since last night. His phone died this morning. He can’t be bothered to charge it. 

A girl comes up to him and smiles. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.” She’s pretty like Tessa—brunette, petite, and delicate. Once upon a time he would not have thought anything about saying yes and going back with her to play, but he doesn’t want her like that. 

***

_ “I don’t have a tux.” Mike admitted, annoyance boiling. He wasn’t born and raised with silver spoons. “I’m not Bruce Wayne.”  _

_ “Don’t I know it.”  _

_ There’s the thing again, and this time Mike launched himself across the apartment to rub that expression away. He mauled Harvey’s mouth like it was the single most important thing to do in the world,  _ situation _ forgotten.  _

_ “What was that for?”  _

_ “Wipe that stupid smile off your face.” Mike said, pushing Harvey off him. “I’m going to get dressed. Give me five minutes.”  _

_ “Our plane doesn’t leave for another two hours.” That’s about all he heard before Harvey wrestled the black boxers off his legs and manhandled him on the bed—legs trapped against the foot, ass up, and chest on the mattress.  _

_ “Well, isn’t that convenient?”  _

_ Harvey’s smile was devilish. The fact that it was peaking from the valley of his ass-cheeks only made it a million times hotter.  _

_ “Fuck,” Mike moaned, burying his face on his old sheets.  _

_ “That’s the idea.”  _

_ Tonight Harvey ate ass like it was a plated three-star dinner, pulling Mike into oblivion slowly but surely until the younger man came beneath him untouched. Mike vaguely remembered getting into the warm bath until his head  _ thunked _ on the edge.  _

_ “Move it, or I’m flying without you.” _

_ “I still don’t have a tux.”   _

_ “I’ll handle it. Just make it quick.”  _

_ Harvey’s shielded non-answers were suspicious, but they were on a clock and Mike could deal with it another time. He pulled on one of Rene’s suits. It still wasn’t a tuxedo though. Harvey said nothing as they exited Mike’s building.  _

_ “Blinds up, Ray,” Harvey instructed as soon as they slid inside. Ray wordlessly complied, keeping the steady stream of jazz flowing through the car speakers. “See that bag?” he pointed to the one currently obscuring Mike’s view of Manhattan. Mike nodded. “Pull it out and put it on. You’ve got—” _

_ “—fifteen minutes, by my estimate.” Ray finished for Harvey. _

_ Mike’s eyes flew open. With the blinds, he took the chance to lean into Harvey’s space. “He can hear us?” he whispered lowly.  _

_ Harvey smirked. “Why do you think we only ever take a cab home?”  _

_ Mike rolled his eyes and started to get dressed, with Harvey leaning against his armrest to enjoy the view. The older man wasn’t even hiding the fact that he ogled the younger man’s body. Mike felt his cheeks grow hot for reasons other than a warm bath.  _

_ The smug bastard.  _

_ As it turned out, Harvey was a smug  _ and _ considerate bastard because he booked them both side-by-side seats in business class like he had psychic powers telling that it was Mike’s first time on a plane, and to top it all off, ‘Different Strokes’ was available on the in-flight entertainment menu.  _

“I’m not,” Mike tells her with a shrug, “I’m just passing by.” He flags down the waitress for a refill and downs the coffee as soon as it arrives, one gulp that burns its way down his throat. It’s too much. Too soon. It feels like he’s drowning. 

***

He should really get going. She wasn’t the brunette that he wanted. 

On the road to Colarado, Mike remembers Harvey and the stolen nights—

***

_ They were pressed together from knees to shoulders, huddled against one of the tall ceiling-to-floor bookshelves in the firm’s lower library, kissing messily. Harvey pinned Mike’s hands overhead while his other hand worked their cocks side-by-side.  _

_ Mike whimpered wantonly underneath him, legs fighting for some kind of purchase around Harvey’s hips but failing drastically and ending up on his tiptoes instead. He kept on trying again anyway. The carpet scruff up his leather shoes, and the resulting friction makes his arm hair stand up but he clung onto Harvey’s lips for as long as he could.  _

_ “Fuck Harvey,” He moaned loud enough for Harvey to bite his bottom lip in retaliation. It didn’t faze him. Rather, it challenged him to moan louder. “Fuck, Harvey.” He deliberately rolled his tongue on the r-sound, the way he knew got Harvey’s gears churning into overdrive.  _

_ “Turn around,” Harvey growled, no longer content with rutting together to completion.  _

_ Mike eager complied, spinning around to get a face full of old legal textbooks, bracing his hands on the shelving and praying they won’t give out. His pants land onto the floor in a heap. He squirmed a foot, shoes and all, out in order to spread his legs. _

_ “God, Harvey,” He groaned when two fingers breach where he was still slick and loose from this morning. Harvey fingered him in a courtroom stall to get the edge off. He had clutched the feeling of wet ass from brunch to right fucking now because a tiny part of him liked to be reminded. “Just go right in, I’m good, I swear, I promise I’m good, I wanna feel it when I go home.”  _

_ There’s hot breath brushing across his nape, and he knew that Harvey was just about to enter him. He gasped at the breach—solid, warm, and heavy—forcing him to open up. An arm wound back to hold onto Harvey’s hip, a bare dimpled ass right beneath his fingertips.  _

_ Harvey buried his face in Mike’s hair when he slid home, voice muffled by Mike’s suit jacket as he covered Mike’s mouth with the palm of his hand. _

_ They move in tandem, quiet but synchronized, chasing each other to the finish line. Mike used his forearms to push back, making the shelf rattle, taking Harvey deeper into his body with every stroke. It dawns on him too late that they forgot to use a condom. Then, he burned for it, wanting to feed the warmth of Harvey’s release deep inside his body.  _

_ That thought pushed him over the edge.  _

_ Harvey had two hands cupped over his cock to catch his spend before it could damage any of the firm’s property. There was no way in hell either of them could explain that without rousing suspicions and they’ve been good at keeping this little secret quiet so far.  _

_ Mike came and came and came, shuddering with the force of each spurt that draws his balls tight against his body. Another spurt jerks out of him when he felt Harvey stiffen and the gush of wetness spreads down his cheeks.  _

_ They collapse in a tangle of limbs on the floor, breathing hard enough the it echoed and a deadly silence followed. In the mess of things, they both wrapped themselves around the afterglow in a post-coital haze. Mike leaned in to lick his seed from Harvey’s fingers and feeling the cock inside him twitch in a valiant effort to get hard again. It made him laugh.  _

_ “Maybe when we find the smoking gun you’ll be up for round three, huh?” _

_ Harvey tightened the grip around his waist. “Round three is back in my condo along with four and five.”  _

_ Rumbling laughter reverberates between their bodies.  _

***

Mike stops at the Grand Junction in Colorado, about eight hours away from Vegas. He’s been on the road for a few days now, sleeping in seedy motels at the side of the highway like some runaway ex-convict because he  _ is a runaway ex-convict _ , just not running away from the law. He’s running away from Harvey, and he knows it. 

***

_ He knocked on Harvey’s door, sharp staccato taps which rung hard through the wooden surface, even if a large golden buzzer gleamed less than a foot away. He still wore the same suit he left in, knowing full well that he could come back—but neither of them expected him back like this.  _

_ “Jessica knows,” he said as soon as the door opened.  _

_ Harvey’s face was absolute shock at the revelation. He swung the door open as an invitation for Mike to come inside, and headed straight for the kitchen to fish out a couple of ice cold beers to start the night. Hard drinks might come later if they needed it, and Mike hopes that they didn’t need it but in the back of his head he thinks that they would.  _

_ “What exactly does she know?” He pointed to the island counter and slid the beer to Mike. “Sit down, and tell me everything she said. Now, Mike.” He ordered, making the other man snap into action.  _

_ Mike slid onto the barstool with the freezing beer in hand. He downed half the bottle before he could even start talking. “Trevor told her. My secret. She knows that I’m—that I—that I’m not—fuck. She knows, Harvey, and she’s going to fire me.”  _

_ Harvey reached over to take his hand, which he didn’t even know was shaking.  _

_ “You gonna be alright there, kid?”  _

_ Mike shook his head in a no. Harvey walked over to his side without another word, pulled the beer away, and tugged them back to his room. He undressed the shivering Mike down to boxers, and wrapped his arms around him.  _

_ That night was the first time they slept on Harvey’s bed without fucking first. It certainly wasn’t the last. But, it was when Mike realized that he was stupidly in love with Harvey Specter. _

***

That night, he decides to wing it and park in a layby to watch the stars. He ends up thinking of Harvey’s face among them. His phone’s still off. Halfway through the trip, he realizes where he wanted to go—the place farthest away from New York City, where he can do the least damage. 

Mike’s plans go to shit when his car breaks down in Nevada. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to stop  _ in _ Las Vegas City to enjoy it. The car’s sent to an insurance-accredited garage, and Mike gets a two-day stopover in the city that never sleeps. It’s any single man’s wildest dreams come true but not his. He just wants a white picket fence in the suburbs with a dog. 

He knows that he needs to get his shirt sorted out. 

“Hey,” he says after the phone rings a few times.

“Mike?” Trevor’s voice sounds disbelieving. “Is it… is it really you?” 

There’s a terse moment of silence before he finally admits. “Yeah, it’s me.” He sighs, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair because the motel room AC is next to null. “Look, I know that you said about your wife… but…  _ dude _ , you’re the only family I got left too.” 

He can practically hear the gears churning in Trevor’s head. 

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Ehrm, midnight?” 

“Mike, it’s three am in New York! You know what? Screw it. Give me a few minutes.” Rustling noises can be heard in the background, a rickety doorknob, and a door closing quietly. “Alright. I’m here. Now, what the hell do you want?” 

Mike snorts at the tone. He remembers every single detail of their last encounter. “You were right,” he admits, tasting the bitterness on his tongue, “I messed up and I messed up good. I fucked up, went to prison, and now I’m running away.” 

“Where exactly are you?” 

“Nevada.”

“What are you doing there?” 

Mike pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s not like he hasn’t said it already. “I’m running away, okay? Wussing out. Being a coward. Go on, why don’t you just ramble off all the insults you can think of so we can back with the conversation.” 

“Dude, are you high? The Mike Ross I knew never would be into the whole feelings-shit deal.” 

Mike sighs. “I honestly wish that I was but it’ll break my probation.” 

“Oh shit, you really did go to prison!” 

“Yeah, I just finished my two-year sentence.” 

“So what are you going to do now?” 

“Honestly?” He picks at the none existent lint on his shirt and stares at himself on the dirty cabinet mirror. “I don’t know. I—he—Harvey picked me up from prison.” 

“Harvey” It takes a few seconds for the name to register. “No, shit, the old guy?  _ Your boss _ ? I  _ fuck _ didn’t even know you guys were banging! Let alone that it was serious. So what’s the problem? He seems to be a nice guy, erhm, in a beat-the-shit-out-of-your-enemies-legally kind of way. Why are you running?”

“ _ Because _ , Trev—” nostalgia hits him as soon as he’s done saying the old nickname “—I’ve already ruined his life once and I don’t want to ruin it again.”

“But, Mike, dude, what makes you so sure that running away isn’t making it worse? Look, man, the kid’s starting to cry and I’m already up. Might as well get her formula so she doesn’t wake up her mom, ya know? I’ve been kind of picking up more shifts at work lately to make meets ends while the missus’ staying at home.” 

“You have a kid,” Mike says in surprise, “a girl? What’s her name?” 

“Michaela Evans.”

A warm fuzzy feeling envelopes him. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, Trevor still considers him a friend. The thought’s enough to warm him. “Thanks, Trevor, I’m glad you didn’t change your number.” 

“Me too, Mike, me too.” 

That night, Mike dreams. 

***

_ The condo looked exactly like he left it. Well, not exactly-exactly. There were no clothes scattered on the floor, no pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, and no fluffy white rug under the coffee table. It was warm because of the pre-stoked fire but it’s aura wasn’t—it felt frigid in Harvey’s condo, like the only ghost of a man had been residing in it.  _

_ “I’ve put…” Harvey started off tentatively, unsure and uncertain. “… your clothes are in the second bedroom.” It stung. They didn’t used to have this kind of awkward tension around them. They used to speak so well without speaking at all.  _

_ Mike nodded numbly. The second bedroom was closer to the living room. Harvey kept it even if he was reluctant to accommodate guests. Neutral shades of grey stayed the same. In the corner, Mike saw a box labelled with his name. He opened it with a frown.  _

_ “Where’s my other stuff?” Only the stuff from Pearson Specter Litt littered inside, but none of what he considered as his personal items.  _

_ Harvey said nothing. He tugged on Mike’s wrist, bonier now by a watch-hole, and led him to the master’s bedroom.  _

_ “Why don’t you take a bath?” He gestured—pushed, really—Mike into the adjourning bathroom.  _

_ Mike stared at the double-bath and double-shower with a rain-head. It was a small grandeur compared to the dingy shared bathroom stalls in prison. He wanted to rip off his clothes right then and there because he suddenly felt so filthy with the grime and dirt semi-permanently stuck under his nails. But, he hesitated.  _

_ Prison food, grimy showers, and constantly being on alert took a huge toll on his body. He knew that he lost a lot of weight. He knew it by the way that his belt loops need to be tightened by one more notch and the way his once tailored clothes hang loosely over his frame.  _

_ He was embarrassed.  _

_ “Yeah, could you… maybe get us some food?”  _

_ Harvey’s eyes brightened at that. “Italian sound good?” _

_ “From  _ Santino’s _?” _

_ Harvey nodded.  _

_ “Alright.” Mike shrugged. He remembered  _ Santino’s,  _ and discovered that it’s owned by Harvey’s family on their first official date. It made a small smile form on his lips. He bit it down. “Can you get some cannoli? And the sweet potato pasta thing with filling inside.” Already, his mouth watered at the memory. It lightened up the air around them.  _

_ Harvey angled in for a kiss, and Mike’s breath hitched. But then, he stopped at the last second and pulled away. “Take as long as you want. It’ll be here in less than an hour.”  _

_ Mike did. He stayed under the rain-head with water beating down his shoulders until he shivered. Even with Harvey’s perfect heating in his Upscale-Manhattan condo, it didn’t help the cold which seeped into Mike’s bone by the tail end of the hour.  _

_ When he got out, he finally dared to see physical proof of his time inside.  _

_ ‘Skinnier’ was the first word which crossed his mind, and ‘tired’ was the second.  _

_ A knock on the door stopped him from further self-loathing. “Hey, food’s here. Come on out while it’s hot.” _

_ The layout of the bathroom didn’t change. Towels were still in the cabinet by the door but Mike didn’t want those. He didn’t want Harvey to see. Instead, he took Harvey’s robe from the hanger and put it on. The smell of Harvey’s body wash and cologne laced through every single thread in the fabric. It felt like Harvey’s arms were enveloping him.  _

_ God, he missed food, so much so that he forgot to look for clothes and went straight to the kitchen.  _ Santino’s _ smelled amazing. It smelled like heaven on earth, second only to Harvey’s scent. _

_ Mike caught Harvey stealing glances for the rest of the night.  _

_ The heaviness in the air returned again.  _

_ When it came time to sleep, Mike hung back by the second bedroom door. It wasn’t until Harvey bodily dragged him to the master’s bedroom that he moved. It had been a long tiring day getting back into civilization. His time in prison almost seemed like a nightmare.  _

_ Harvey loved him—loves him. He saw it in the way Harvey’s eyes looked at him. _

***

It scares Mike shitless. 

***

Morning comes too early the next morning, especially after a late night and restless slumber. The insistent banging on his door which grows louder and louder, threatening the wood off its hinges. Mike bolts awake. His reaction ingrained from months looking over his shoulder for things scarier than the law. 

Fear cuts through him like a razor sharp blade. 

He’s sweating within minutes. No weapons. No sharp objects. No time to fashion a shiv. He takes the lamp from the bedside table a moves to the door. It’s one of those shitty motels with two-rows of rooms in every hall. His room overlooks the parking lot but leaves him blind on the inside. 

“Mike,  _ goddamnit _ , open the damn door!” 

Mike freezes. Fear now for a different reason. The lamp falls to the ground with a clatter. It’s plastic and doesn’t break, but the shade falls off. 

“Harvey?” He can’t believe his eyes when he throws the door open. 

“Mike.” Harvey stares back at him with the same bewildered expression like he can’t believe that Mike’s there, like he can’t believe that  _ he’s _ there, and like he’s too scared it was all a dream. His mouth hangs open, one hand poised to knock while the other braces against the doorway. 

“Hi.”

The single word breaks the moment. Time unfreezes, and Harvey plows his way past Mike into the motel room. 

“God _ damnit _ , Mike,” Harvey says again, weaker and softer. He collapses on the rickety bed with elbows to his knees, running hands over his face then carding them through his hair, visibly shaken but not shaking yet. “God _ damnit _ , Mike,” and it sounds like relief in the sob that escapes his lips. 

Mike gapes because that’s all he can do. Guilt clogs up his throat as well. He can count on one hand the number of times that he’s seen Harvey look this  _ broken _ —sitting on the bed in a rumpled jacket and sweaty black Henley, day-old jeans, and hair freely falling to his face. 

“Why?” The question brings him back to his senses. 

Why what? 

Why leave? 

Why do this? 

Why come back at all?

So many ‘whys’, and Mike doesn’t know if he can answer all. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he confesses, avoiding Harvey’s eyes at all costs. It’s easy enough to do seeing as the older man isn’t even trying to look at him. Mike steps forward, then takes two steps back until he’s pressed against the door. “It’s… it’s better this way.” 

_ “Damn it, Mike, don’t do this _ .”

It’s a memory and a regret. It’s Harvey’s words right now.

Mike’s whole body stiffens against his command. Harvey’s looking at him, pinning him to the door with his gaze, unrelenting and so full of emotions that Mike thinks that he might drown outside of water. The silence stretches between them. The air grows thick with unspoken words, unsaid things—secrets and doubts. It threatens to spill over the edges and take them both away. 

Harvey cracks first, breaking into a stride and stopping two feet away from Mike. 

“Damn it, Mike, don’t do this.” There’s something there in the way he says it. Harvey stays firms in place. His jaw clenches and unclenches, an old habit that strikes Mike with overwhelming familiarity. The same habits. The same person. The same people. “—not again.” 

Mike opens his mouth to speak but closes it again. No words come. They remain stuck on the tip of his tongue. He can’t make them come out. 

Harvey opens his arms. 

“But you—you didn’t seem happy,” Mike chokes out when steps into Harvey’s embrace. You wouldn’t even look at me!” His own mouth and heart betray him. He spews out things he wants to say, things bottled up, things he kept hidden. He shakes with the intensity of his creams. “I was there Harvey. You wouldn’t even look at me when I came back. You wouldn’t talk—you couldn’t take. You were staring at me like a was a whole different person!” 

The arms around him tighten, and he instinctively fights back. 

Harvey stands his ground and waits it out. 

It could be mere seconds, a few minutes, or countless hours until Mike’s so exhausted that he falls to his knees on the floor, only then does he sob, breaking down with a year’s worth of tears that he couldn’t shed in prison—abandonment, dread, frustrations, loneliness, rage, and weariness. 

“You don’t have to be alone,” Harvey says, as if ready his mind, “not anymore.” Then, a curse. “Shit, Mike, I was planning to do this better the second time but you still won’t believe me.” He pulls off Mike to stare into those scared blue eyes. 

“I was going to ask you to marry me.”

“What?” That’s it. Mike snaps. He’s finally gone down the deep end.

Harvey rummages through his jacket pockets with one hand. It takes a while since he’s still mostly holding up Mike. It takes  _ forever _ , in Mike’s opinion, until Harvey manages to pull out a small black velvet box and opens it with a simple silver band inside. 

“I said,” Harvey repeats, making sure that Mike hears each and every single one of his words, “I  _ am _ asking you to marry me. Don’t go. Don’t leave. Don’t run away. _ Stay _ , with me, in New York, in Nevada, in wherever—just stay. Let’s move. Buy a house, a condo, and apartment. I don’t care as long as it’s ours. Stay with me this time, Mike, I’m not letting you go again.” 

Mike doesn’t have words. 

Instead, he leans in and closes the last few inches between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you liked or enjoyed this fic, you should know what to do. **Comment/Kudos/Bookmarks** are always appreciated by this author. :) 
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)


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